Her right palm pressed down on the horn as she drove with her left hand.
Mason paid no attention whatever to the traffic, but concentrated his attention on Douglas Keene.
"Tell me about it," he said, "and don't waste words. Put your lips up close to my ear and shout, because I've got to hear every word you say. Give me just the highlights."
"Edith DeVoe telephoned me. She'd already told me about finding Sam in the car pumping exhaust fumes into the pipe. She wanted me to come out at once and see her. She said something important had developed. I went out. I rang her doorbell, and there was no answer, but the manager of the apartment house was just coming out. I started to go in through the door as he opened it, and he stopped me and asked me who I was and whom I wanted to see. I told him I had an appointment with Edith DeVoe, and kept right on going. He hesitated for a minute and then went on out. I went down the corridor to Edith DeVoe's room. She was lying on the floor. There was a club near her, and…"
"Yes, yes," shouted Mason. "Never mind that. What happened next?"
"I went directly to my apartment. Someone had been there before me. A suit of mine was spattered with blood. I didn't notice it right away."
"That was after you'd taken the cat to Winifred?"
"Yes, I left Winifred and went to my apartment. That was where I got Edith DeVoe's message."
"And you went from your apartment to see Edith?"
"That's right."
"How long after you got back to your apartment did you notice your suit had blood on it?"
"Almost at once."
"Then what did you do?"
"It was a nightmare. I tried to get rid of the bloodstains and couldn't."
"Why didn't you call the officers when you saw Edith DeVoe had been murdered?"
"I just lost my head, that's all. I was afraid they'd try to pin it on me. I was shocked and frightened. I just ran away. Then when I saw my clothes all spattered with blood… Ugh! It was a nightmare!"
"Did you kill Ashton?"
"Of course not; I didn't even see him."
"Did you go to the house to get the cat?"
"Yes."
"Were you in Ashton's room?"
"Yes."
"Did you look around any?"
The man hesitated. Della Street swung the car to avoid a truck. The car swerved out of control, lurched toward a telephone pole. Della Street fought with the steering wheel. Perry Mason gave but a passing glance to the road ahead as Della struggled to get the car back under control, leaned close to Douglas Keene's ear and said, "Did you look around any while you were in the room?"
Keene hesitated.
"Go on and answer."
"Yes, I was looking for something."
"What?"
"Evidence."
"Evidence of what?"
"I don't know; I thought there was something fishy in the way Ashton had been spending money. I was just looking around. Jim Brandon hinted Ashton had the diamonds in his crutch."
"Did you wear gloves or did you leave fingerprints?"
"I must have left fingerprints."
"Now, look here, Keene, wasn't Ashton there? Wasn't he dead? Aren't you trying to cover up something?"
"No," Keene said, "he wasn't there. I'm telling you the truth."
"You left before he came in?"
"So help me, Mr. Mason, that's the truth."
Della Street had the car back under control. Street intersections whizzed by in flashes. She braked the car for a turn.
"Don't tell anyone what you've told me," Mason said. "You're going to surrender at police headquarters. Refuse to talk unless I'm with you. You've got to do that in order to protect Winifred. If you so much as open your mouth, Winifred is going to become involved. Can you keep quiet for her sake?"
The youth nodded.
The car skidded as Della Street made the turn, slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop in front of police headquarters. Mason grabbed Keene by the arm, rushed him out of the car and up the steps. As they were about to enter, a commandeered automobile screeched to a stop at the curb and Sergeant Holcomb, with a gun in his right hand, jumped from the car and sprinted after them. Mason rushed Keene down the corridor to a door marked "Homicide Squad," kicked it open and said casually to the man at the desk, "This is Douglas Keene. He's surrendering himself into custody, in accordance with the understanding I had…"
The door burst open. Sergeant Holcomb tore into the room.
"I've got you this time," he said to Perry Mason.
"For what?" Mason inquired.
"Resisting arrest."
"I didn't resist arrest."
"I was trying to arrest this man and you took him away from me; I don't give a damn if you did take him to headquarters. I had him arrested before you took him here."
"You can't arrest a man," Mason said, "until you've actually taken him into custody. After you've taken him into custody, he can escape, but there can't be any arrest until the man is in custody."
"But you helped him beat it so I couldn't make the arrest. I'm going to get you for that."
Mason smiled, and said, "You overlook one thing, Sergeant. A private citizen can make an arrest when a felony has in fact been committed and he has reasonable ground to believe that the person he is arresting is the one who committed the felony. I put Douglas Keene under arrest."
Sergeant Holcomb pushed the gun back into his holster. The officer behind the desk said, "Take it easy, Sergeant. Mason has surrendered him."
Sergeant Holcomb turned without a word and pushed out of the door. A newspaper reporter came running into the room. He grabbed Mason by the arm. "Do I get an interview with Keene?" he asked.
"Certainly," Mason told him. "I can tell you exactly what Douglas Keene will say, and all he will say. He will say that it is remarkably nice weather we are having for this time of year, and that is all, my dear boy, absolutely all."
Chapter 15
Perry Mason was chuckling as Della Street drove the automobile toward his office. "Turn to the left at Fifth Street, Della," he said, "and go straight to the Union Depot."
"The Union Depot?" she asked.
He nodded. "The office is going to be too hot—you know, too many newspaper men, cops, detectives, district attorneys, and what have you. I want to use the telephone, and I'll go down to the depot while you're packing up."
She deftly avoided a jaywalking pedestrian, and gave Mason a sidelong glance. "What do you mean, while I'm packing up?"
"A couple of suitcases," he said, "a light airplane trunk if you have one."
"I have one."
"All of your party clothes. You're going to stay at an exclusive hotel, and I want you to put on a good show—act the part, you know."
"What's going to be my part?"
"A bride."
"The man in the case?" she inquired, as she slid the car to a stop when a traffic signal turned against her.